


MacBride

by FreedomWriter



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 1920s Fashion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aurors, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Major Original Character(s), May not be Crimes of Grindelwald-compliant, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), OCs - Freeform, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Original Percival Graves Survives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn, So much angst, haven't decided yet, newtina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-16 22:38:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreedomWriter/pseuds/FreedomWriter
Summary: It's 1926, the world is darkening, and Ambassador Fiona MacBride is just doing her best.She couldn't help save the Barebone boy, she can't help Newt, Jacob, or Queenie, but she's back in New York (thank Merlin) and she will do anything to help Tina find Percival Graves. And help bring Grindelwald down.It's 1926, the world is darkening, and Ambassador Fiona MacBride is in love with a man who might very well be dead.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hola! This baby has been germinating in my brain since I saw Fantastic Beasts and was introduced to the marvel that is Colin Farrell. After the mess of the second movie (which I may or may not keep to), I decided to post it. After all, it can't be worse than what we saw on screen.
> 
> The main character is an OC, so if that's not your cup of tea, I'd advise to turn back now. It's very heavily OC-centric, since that's my playground of choice. 
> 
> There's going to be a lot of back-and-forth in time while narrating, so if I don't make it clear anywhere, apologies, and do let me know!
> 
> Alright? Read on!

 

**“WHERE IS PERCIVAL GRAVES?”**

Ambassador MacBride’s hands shook as she took in the headline of the damp, slightly bedraggled copy of the _New York Ghost_. Not a Howler, but it might as well be.

A harsh _clink_ sounded as she placed her teacup back in the saucer.

_WHERE IS PERCIVAL GRAVES_

Merlin and Agrippa, wouldn’t she like to know? Useless as she was, packed off to London to submit her testimony, every spare part of her was in New York, trampling its streets uselessly.

Newt and herself hauled in for questioning, Tina hunting for her boss, Queenie heartbroken, Jacob Obliviated, MACUSA in disarray- and Graves missing. Perhaps dead.

No. He couldn’t dead. She’d know, wouldn’t she?

WHERE IS PERCIVAL GRAVES?

* * *

 

“Madam MacBride, in your capacity as Ambassador to the United States, you worked closely with Director Graves and President Picquery, correct?” The Head of Foreign Affairs, Mr Rookwood, asked.

Fiona nodded. “I did, to a degree.” She replied.

“Could you clarify?”

She took a deep breath. “I liaised with Director Graves regarding security as I carried out my duties, but I had more contact with Head Auror DeSoto and other members of the force for that purpose.” She chanced a glance at the Minister for Magic, Hector Fawley, and his current favourite, Theseus. “I saw the Director and President Picquery at weekly meetings regarding trade laws and related negotiations around Rappaport’s Law, as well as mustering support against Grindelwald.” There was a ripple of murmuring around the chamber.

“That wasn’t within your mandate.” Rookwood pointed out. Fiona nodded. “Not explicitly, but the deep divide between the magical and Muggle worlds in America makes it prime recruiting ground for Grindelwald’s ambitions, and my stated mandate was to ‘further ties between the Ministry and MACUSA to promote co-operation and understanding between the two’.”

“You improvised?”

“Interpreted. Broadly.” She corrected, and caught a glimmer of a smile from Rookwood. It was gone before she could blink, however.

“In all your negotiations, did you ever receive the impression that Director Graves was not himself? That he was becoming sympathetic to Grindelwald’s aims?”

“No.” Fiona stated, knowing that this answer would matter. “Director Graves was, from the start, clear in denouncing Grindelwald in both motive and method. He values human life, be it Muggle or magical, but his upbringing makes it difficult for him to envisage a realistic relaxation of Rappaport’s Law, especially in the current circumstances.”

“And what were his views on Obscurials?”

“We never discussed them, Mr Rookwood, as they were irrelevant to our discussions. But he did admit a concern that the current system might not be fully efficient when it came to identifying magical children born to Muggle parents. I believe that had he not been abducted, we would have taken that discussion further and discussed Obscurials in a realistic manner.”

“Is this your stated opinion?”

“Yes, it is.” She held his gaze stubbornly. “Director Graves is a good man, _not_ a Grindelwald supporter.”

Rookwood’s eyebrow rose. “ _Is_? You seem certain of his survival, Madam MacBride.”

Fiona took a deep breath, then another. “And I will continue to be until I am presented with either an eyewitness account or a corpse.” How she kept her voice from breaking on the word, she would never know.

Theseus’s jaw was tight; he knew Graves too, she remembered. From the war. How well did they know each other, really, for Theseus to look like that?

And how well did _she_ know him, Graves, really, for her heart to bleed inside her chest for every day that came and went without news?

Rookwood was speaking; Fiona wrenched her mind back to the present. “At what point did you begin to suspect that an imposter had taken Director Graves’ place?”

The question had been inevitable. She’d expected it, and still her insides froze.

_“You said you’d keep the ring ready for when I got back,” Fiona’s voice broke as she gazed at him through damp eyes. “If you don’t- if you- if you don’t_ care _anymore, Percival, I’d rather you came out and said it_. _Pushing me away like this- it’s cruel. I don’t deserve it.”_

_That blank gaze suddenly lit up. “Now, Fiona,” He crossed the office to lay a tender hand along her jaw. “You’re not even going to let me_ surprise _you, are you, love?”_

_Her eyes warmed, even as her blood ran cold._

**_It wasn’t him._ **

She swallowed. “After the wrongful sentencing of Newton Scamander and Porpentina Goldstein,” She began. “I contacted Queenie Goldstein, the latter’s sister, who rescued the Muggle Jacob Kowalski from being Obliviated. The three of us broke into the Director’s office and retrieved Newt- Mr Scamander’s case, and Miss Goldstein smuggled them out. I remained behind.”

“And why was that?”

“Director Graves’ behaviour when Newt, Auror Goldstein, and Mr Kowalski were apprehended had me concerned. Following the sentencing and attempted execution, I began to entertain a definite suspicion as to whether Director Graves could have been coerced into joining Grindelwald.”

“Not voluntarily?”

Fiona raised her chin. “No.”

A short silence followed.

It was the Minister for Magic who broke it. “Continue, Madam MacBride.”

“Thank you, Minister.” Her heart began to race. This was the part that required the most careful wording. “I went to Director Graves’ office, pretending not to be aware of the escape; I instead attempted to remonstrate with him regarding Mr Scamander’s extradition to Britain, given his status as a British citizen and Ministry employee.”

“I attempted to parse out his true loyalties.” She hurried on, forestalling Rookwood’s question. “Leading questions, references and so on. Discussing Newt’s ‘crimes’, the recent disturbances in New York… and then I introduced a lie into the conversation. Which he didn’t pick up on.”

Rookwood looked interested. “Which was?”

Now, more than ever, she needed the poker face she’d perfected over ten years. “I referred to an earlier conversation in which we had discussed London and New York, and my home here. He didn’t question the lie- which made me realise that Director Graves was not a traitor- he had been replaced.”

“Did you consider the possibility that it was Grindelwald in disguise?”

She shook her head slowly. “It never occurred to me that he could be so bold.” She admitted. “I suspected a connection to the anti-Muggle movement, maybe even to Grindelwald indirectly… but never that it was the man himself. If I had…”

“No one would have suspected.” Fawley’s tone was surprisingly kind. “You’re not to blame, Madam MacBride.”

Fiona swallowed. If they knew just how much she _was_ to blame… “Thank you, Minister.” She repeated. “As I was saying, as soon as I realised the truth, it was important that the false Graves not be alerted to my knowledge. This managed, I pretended to storm out, and contacted Queenie Goldstein, who was the only one who was not a wanted fugitive, by Patronus. Following her indications, I rendezvoused with them at Macy’s departmental store, where we re-captured Mr Scamander’s last two escaped creatures, though not without damage to the store, which we however quickly repaired.”

“Ah yes,” Fawley rolled his eyes, while behind him, Theseus was making a mostly-successful attempt not to grin. “An occamy and a _demiguise_. How Mr Scamander managed to corral a demiguise in the first place… let alone a second time…”

“It was babysitting the occamy, sir.” Fiona replied blandly. Theseus’ lips twitched.

“Merlin’s beard,” Fawley shook his head. “And how did—?”

“Perhaps that would be better addressed by Mr Scamander’s testimony.” Rookwood interrupted smoothly. “What happened next, Madam MacBride?”

“We spent some time getting the creatures to settle down, and securing them even further.” Fiona answered. “During this time, I relayed my information on Director Graves’ impersonator, following which the Obscurial, Credence Barebone, was triggered into his worst attack yet.”

“Is this an eyewitness account, this ‘triggering’, or is it your opinion?”

Fiona frowned. “It’s a considered conclusion based on evidence, sir.” She replied. “Auror Goldstein was personally acquainted with Mr Barebone, and knew his circumstances- indeed, her temporary demotion was due to an attempt to protect him from the situation that caused the development of his condition- and Mr Scamander was very clear that a trigger event is required for an Obscurial to lose control, particularly on the scale that Credence did. It is therefore my conclusion that the final trigger was a particularly traumatic experience that pushed Mr Barebone over the edge.”

Another short silence.

“Is there any clarity as to what that experience might have been?” Mr Rookwood asked at last. Fiona pursed her lips for a moment.

“It’s difficult to say, sir, now that Credence is…” She sighed. “No more.” Newt’s agonised face swam to the forefront of her mind. “Judging by the fake Graves’ presence and manner of addressing him, my guess is that he had been in contact with Credence for some time, trying to harness his powers for his crusade. But as I said, it’s just a guess. There can be no definite verdict on the matter in the absence of Credence’s testimony.”

Rookwood nodded. “Continue with your account, Madam MacBride.”

Fiona wanted out, really. What more could she tell them that Newt couldn’t? But she continued: “We- Mr Scamander, Auror Goldstein, and myself- immediately apparated to the scene of the attack, and found the man calling himself Graves already there. It was only then that we realised that the Obscurial was Credence- it was Newt who deduced it- and both Auror Goldstein and I elected to remain and deal with Graves’ impersonator, while Newt went after Credence in an attempt to calm his rampage.”

“Not Auror Goldstein, who actually knew the Obscurial?”

Fiona shook her head. “Given Goldstein’s Auror training, she stood more of a chance against this man than myself or Newt, and I was naturally the last choice of us three to attempt to calm Credence. Moreoever, Newt had prior experience with Obscurials, which made him the logical choice.”

_Newt is good, down to the bottom of his heart,_ she wanted to say. _Tina knew Credence, and I can talk rings around people, but Newt sparkles with goodness in a way few people do. Credence needed that, more than anything else._

Theseus would have understood. But it wasn’t Theseus she reported to.

“Sound reasoning.” Rookwood nodded. “What next?”

“Director Graves- Grindelwald- overpowered both myself and Auror Goldstein.” Fiona said. “We managed to buy Newt- Mr Scamander- some time to talk Credence down, but Grindelwald, as Director Graves, directed the MACUSA Aurors to cast a perimeter, and entered the subway tunnel himself. Auror Goldstein and I only just managed to sneak in ourselves.”

Rookwood leaned forward. “And this is my cue to reprimand you, Madam MacBride.” He fixed her with a piercing gaze. “You are a civilian; moreover, you were the Ministry Ambassador to the United States. Did you pause to consider the ramifications of your death on Anglo-American relations?”

Fiona had expected that. “The way I saw it, sir, MACUSA stood to be questioned in any case. One more person down there who knew the truth wouldn’t hurt. Moreover,” She raised her voice over Rookwood’s rising objection. “If Grindelwald had won, Anglo-American relations would have been the least of our problems.”

“Hindsight.” Rookwood snapped. “You had no idea it was Grindelwald.”

“There was an English citizen- _my friend_ \- in that tunnel, Mr Rookwood. Also a civilian. I wasn’t going to let him down there alone.” Fiona replied, keeping her temper in check with practised ease.

“The fact is that you were carried away and didn’t stop to think, Madam MacBride.” Rookwood’s eyes flared.

Fiona raised her eyebrows. “I have never in my life been accused of that, Mr Rookwood,” She replied coolly. “And it was certainly not the case in this instance. I considered the risks, and judged myself equal to them. My judgement has proven accurate, as my presence in this chamber, and ability to provide you with a full eyewitness account, can attest.”

Rookwood seemed to turn purple. Fawley intervened. “While I’m sure we commend your ability to defend yourself in a tricky situation,” He said soothingly. “You should at least have waited for your MACUSA protective detail to arrive.”

“I would have, had there been time, Minister.” Fiona inclined her head. “I am aware that the call I made to expose myself, an Ambassador, to the dangers that I did was a questionable one, but it was not illogical, unconsidered, or reckless. It was a split-second decision, and I took a call. I stand by that.”

Her words hovered, trembling, tense, in the air. At length, Rookwood took a deep, stabilising breath; his skin lost its high colour. “And then?”

“Mr Scamander and Auror Goldstein attempted to calm Credence down, and the results were favourable, particularly Goldstein’s words.” Fiona continued. “But Grindelwald continued to sway the boy, and the arrival of the Aurors with wands out did not help matters. Grindelwald, who still wore Graves’ face, ordered them to stand down, but on President Picquery’s orders (as it subsequently turned out), the entire Auror force, minus Grindelwald and Goldstein, unleashed a barrage of destructive spells on Credence, who was still in his Obscurus form, though coalescing.” Fiona licked her lips, recalling the shrill shriek the poor, doomed boy had emitted moments before he- “He died. Exploded, actually.”

Newt’s expression flashed before her eyes again, as did the guilt and devastation on Tina’s. She blinked, hard.

“What happened next?” Fawley asked quietly. Fiona exhaled shakily. “Grindelwald began to show his true colours- still wearing the Director’s face.” She wanted to curse out loud- he’d spared no pains to drag Graves through the mud, even at the end, that _monster_. “He denounced Rappaport’s Law in fairly colourful language- I will submit my memories, where the full account can be viewed- drawing clear distinctions between Muggles and wizardkind, and said that he would not ‘ _bow down’_ any longer. President Picquery then ordered her Aurors to disarm him, which devolved into a full-fledged battle- which Grindelwald was winning. It was Mr Scamander who subdued him, using one of his creatures.”

“Which one?”

She cocked her head, smiling wryly. “I’m not sure if it has a universal name- the locals of its native area call it ‘Swooping Evil’.” Theseus could barely suppress a snort. “It bound Grindelwald’s hands behind his back and forced him to his knees, as Auror Goldstein disarmed him.”

Theseus looked both proud and quizzical. Fiona could heartily sympathise. Newt’s unorthodox tactics had that effect upon people.

“Mr Scamander then unmasked Grindelwald, correct?”

“Yes.” Fiona nodded. It should have been a triumphant relation, but all she could feel was the selfsame horror that had crept through her veins upon seeing the black melt into white, and those dark eyes fade into a frightening, mismatched pair- on seeing a face she knew and loved bubble and realign into another that she knew from Wanted posters in multiple countries. “He performed the Revelio charm, which turned Grindelwald back into himself.”

“After which he was taken into MACUSA custody?”

Fiona nodded again. “President Picquery personally oversaw his incarceration, and I received a full report on his security before I left, which I have already submitted to the Foreign Office _and_ the Auror Office.”

“We’ve gone over that report in detail, and briefed the Minister.” Theseus spoke up for the first time. “The measures are extensive and nigh impossible to break through without more help than Grindelwald currently has access to. Of course, we can’t rule out Dark Magic that we’re unaware of, but multiple Ministry experts have reviewed the file and it seems satisfactory so far.”

“Thank you, Auror Scamander.” Mr Rookwood inclined his head at the war hero. “Madam MacBride, tell us about the mass Obliviation of New York City.”

She shrugged, then regretted the action. “Newt- that is, Mr Scamander’s research had turned up interesting memory-erasing properties of Swooping Evil venom.” She explained. “He also… well, he had a Thunderbird in his case which he had intended to reintroduce to its natural habitat of Arizona. It was a simple matter of setting Frank free and equipping him with a tube of the venom, and then allowing the storm and rainfall caused by his flight to dilute the venom to produce an Obliviating solution disguised as rain.”

_Another_ short silence followed her words, this one rather stunned.

Rookwood’s voice was strangled. “And Picquery _allowed_ this mad plan?”

Fawley had more pressing concerns. “ _Frank?_ ”

Fiona stifled a smile. “Frank the Thunderbird, Minister.” She explained kindly. “And yes, Mr Rookwood, she did, since it was either a gamble based upon an expert opinion, or exposure of the magical world.”

Fawley was shaking his head, but there was an amused crinkle to the corners of his eyes that gave Fiona a little hope. Rookwood still looked a little gobsmacked.

“Continue, Madam MacBride.” The Minister gestured. Fiona blinked. “That’s… all, really, Minister.” She replied.

He leaned forward. “Why didn’t you return to London _immediately_ , as Mr Scamander did?” He enquired sternly. “Surely you knew that your report would be of paramount importance.”

“That was why I stayed, sir, to compile it in relative peace while events were still fresh in my mind. Also…” She hesitated, before rushing on. “Also I hoped to be there when Director Graves was recovered. I have a great deal of respect for him, and I wanted to know he was safe before returning. Within a reasonable time frame, naturally.”

All three men regarded her with raised eyebrows. She met their gaze defiantly.

“And Director Graves has not yet been found, has he?” Rookwood enquired. A painful lump rose in Fiona’s throat, and she shook her head in lieu of an answer. “Madam MacBride,” And his voice was the kindest it had been so far. “You are aware, I trust, that no one has yet survived Grindelwald?”

_Oh Circe, please, no_.

“I have hope, Mr Rookwood. As I said, I will continue to hold onto that until convinced otherwise.” Fiona rose, glad for the robes that hid her shaking knees. “Will that be all?”

The Minister and Rookwood exchanged glances. “Yes, Madam MacBride.” The latter answered her. “That will be all. Thank you for your testimony.”

* * *

 

The next few days brought no relief.

**“WHERE IS PERCIVAL GRAVES?”** The _New York Ghost_ demanded over and over again.

_Where is Percival Graves?_ She thought, almost in despair.

An owl tapped on her window, rousing her from a reverie. A Ministry owl, by the looks of it- and the seal on the parchment it clutched.

_‘Dear Madam MacBride,_

_Having examined your testimony and memories in conjunction with other witness statements, we have reached the conclusion that you discharged your duties as Ambassador to the United States to the best of your ability, and went above the call of duty when faced with a situation of uncommon danger. We are therefore pleased to award you a commendation for your actions, and also to inform you that your posting in New York City has been extended for a period of two years, if you wish it._

_In light of your contact with the Dark wizard Grindelwald and his followers, you will be assigned a protective detail of two Ministry Aurors on this posting. Details on the identities of the same will follow shortly. If you have any preferences, you may inform the Auror Office no later than the end of this working week, and they will be considered._

_Should you accept this posting, you should aim to leave no later than the 30 th of November. All travel arrangements will be overseen by the Foreign Office, in conjunction with the Auror Office. We will also liaise with the corresponding departments in MACUSA to arrange your accommodation in New York. _

_Details of your award will follow shortly._

_Finally, we wish to thank you for your bravery in the face of danger thus far. We hope that you will demonstrate the same going forward, and continue fostering Anglo-American relations as you have been doing._

_Yours sincerely,  
Theophilius Rookwood_

_Head of Foreign Affairs,  
Ministry of Magic._

Fiona exhaled, a long, slow thing, and sank onto her couch. _Thank Merlin_ , she repeated over and over in her head. _Thank Merlin, thank **Merlin**._

She wondered how receptive Seraphina Picquery truly would be to her return. Fiona, after all, now had inner knowledge of MACUSA’s inefficiencies.

_I warned her,_ Fiona remembered irritably. _No Obscurial in America indeed!_ _How on **earth** would they know?!_

_Percival would have listened… but it wasn’t Percival that day, was it? It was that evil son of a bitch… then, and later, in his office…_

She shuddered, hugging herself spasmodically. She couldn’t think about it. Not yet.

_Percival, where are you?_

 


	2. Chapter 2

_ New York City, November 1926 _

Bloody hell, it was freezing.

Fiona cursed the Londoner arrogance that had led her to forgo even the most basic warming charm. She’d need a good, steaming cup of tea, or at least a Butterbeer to keep herself from catching a cold.

Considering this was New York, neither would be easily available; she’d have to settle for the slap-bang efficacy of a Pepper-Up Potion. Ugh. It might work better, but _Merlin_ it was unpleasant on the tongue.

She hadn’t even made it off the gangplank yet.

She could see two trench-coated MACUSA employees standing in wait. Hitching her lips up into what she hoped was a passable smile, she strode towards them. One of them, she was pleased to see, was Tina Goldstein.

“Auror DeSoto.” She shook hands with the Head Auror with great cordiality. Up close, she thought she could see signs of strain around his eyes. “It’s good to see you again. You as well, Auror Goldstein.”

“Welcome back, Ambassador.” DeSoto replied, nodding tersely. She felt a little better about her fake smile upon seeing his wooden one. “President Picquery sends her apologies, but—”

Fiona waved the apology aside, then regretted it. Her hand was cold. “She can’t be having an easy time of it.” She said. “How is the search for Director Graves going?”

The lines around his eyes tightened. “It’s… a work in progress, ma’am, but we’re not about to give up hope.”

“Neither should you.” She murmured, heart dropping slightly in her chest. A moment later, she smiled thinly. “May I introduce Aurors Tully and Greene, from the Ministry of Magic.”

The four Aurors greeted each other; Tully- Daniel Tully, an old schoolfellow of Fiona’s- gave Tina a curious, searching look.

“Auror DeSoto, you won’t object if I ask Auror Goldstein to show me to my residence, will you?” Fiona asked sweetly. Judging by the crease between his eyebrows, he _did_ mind. “She can escort me to MACUSA afterwards. After all, Tully and Greene don’t know the lay of the land yet.”

DeSoto blinked at her, irritation forgotten for a moment. “You’re… coming to MACUSA today?”

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Best to get started as soon as possible, wouldn’t you say?”

He regarded her for a long moment, before nodding. “I’ll inform the President, then. Will two hours be enough?”

“More than. And Goldstein?” Fiona prompted. DeSoto chewed the inside of his cheek, before sighing. “Fine. Goldstein, you’re to show the Ministry Aurors the ropes, and escort the Ambassador to MACUSA. Two hours, ETA.” He fixed the younger woman with a glare. “Don’t wander off.”

Clearly, Tina’s credibility wasn’t back to 100 per cent with her superiors. The glare didn’t seem to cow her, though. “Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Without further ado, DeSoto disappeared into the milling crowd. Tina exhaled, relieved.

“You’re not staying in your old quarters,” She told Fiona, as they hurried away from the docks, towards the street and down a deserted alley. “Here, I’ll Side-Along you—”

Daniel Tully stepped forward. “You can Side-Along all of us?”

Tina shrugged. “I’ll get coffee after.” Fiona chuckled. “On me, if you like.”

The other woman beamed, then extended her hand. Fiona took it, and Daniel and Greene held on to her shoulders.

“Don’t get Splinched.” Was all the warning they got before the alley disappeared in a _crack_ and a whirl of colour.

When their feet hit the ground, they stood before a large hotel. “A Muggle hotel?” Fiona asked, tone dubious. Tina grinned, albeit a little weakly. “The top floor doesn’t exist.” She explained, leading them around the side entrance and tapping a brick in the wall.

“Third one from the bottom.” She clarified.

Daniel and Greene nodded. “Very Diagon Alley.” The former remarked. Tina threw him a confused look, but Fiona just shook her head. “London thing.”

“Ah.” The bricks were rearranging themselves with a terrific grating and groaning, until a single elevator was visible. “And _that’s_ like Dumbledore’s office.” Daniel mumbled.

Fiona wanted to smack him. Or at least stand on his foot.

“Come along, Goldstein.” She said brightly. “The gentlemen can follow after, surely?”

As one, they frowned. “Madam MacBride—” Greene began, but she only laughed, and hopped into the elevator, which responded immediately.

“I love playing truant.” She confided to a snickering Tina. “After all, what’re they going to do, lecture me?”

The elevator slid smoothly to a halt, and the two women exited into a gorgeous, marble-floored foyer.

“You can hire your own staff if you want.” Tina’s voice echoed around the room. “Butler, housekeeper- you have those, right?”

“Left mine in the last century, actually.” Fiona replied dryly. “How do you think we English live, Tina?” She flicked her wand, and the elevator descended again.

“Well, you’re half-French….”

“We had a _revolution._ ”

Tina laughed again, and led her through one of the doors. “Your suite. Pretty nice digs, very Ambassador-worthy.”

Fiona gazed around at the spacious, well-appointed room. Pale rose-coloured walls, comfortable furniture, even a gramophone. “I’ll say.” She agreed. “This _is_ an upgrade, not that the old place was shabby.” Two doors- one led to the bedroom, and another to a study, she supposed.

Tina scoffed. “You’re an honoured guest after the Grindelwald infiltration.” She explained. “We need to save face somehow.”

Fiona frowned. “And having Grindelwald in your prison isn’t enough?”

“He got to Graves’ office first, didn’t he?” Tina muttered bitterly. Fiona’s stomach _swooped_ sickeningly, and she only just managed to sink rather than collapse onto a couch arm.

Tina was watching her narrowly.

“I-” Fiona inhaled deeply. “I tried to keep track from London, but…” She raised pleading eyes to the Auror’s face. “Have you _any_ news?”

Before she could answer, both Ministry Aurors burst in without so much as a knock.

“Gentlemen!” Fiona snapped; the two halted in their tracks, annoyed but wary. “A little courtesy, perhaps?”

Tina could hardly believe her ears when Auror Tully scoffed. “Save it, Fiona,” He snapped right back. “Maybe once you start letting us do our ruddy job—”

Fiona’s eyes flashed. “I need to _request_ privacy now?”

“When you have your own protective detail, _yes_.” He replied, narrowing his eyes. “We talked about this, Fee.”

“Mind your tone, Tully.” Greene rumbled. “But he’s right, Madam MacBride. We’re your protection; you have to let us protect you.”

Fiona deflated.

“True. I apologise, gentlemen.” She looked at Daniel contritely. “Danny, I _am_ sorry. But now I need some time alone with Auror Goldstein.”

“Can it wait until after she walks us through your security measures?” Greene enquired.

Fiona made a dispirited gesture and slid gracelessly into the couch.

“That’ll be a yes.” Tully turned to Tina, smiling. “It’s a pleasure, Auror Goldstein. Could you show us what measures you’ve taken to protect the Ambassador now?”

He wasn’t her type, but Tina had to admit that Daniel Tully was astonishingly handsome, especially when he smiled like that. “Of course,” She included Auror Greene in her professional smile. “And the pleasure’s all mine. C’mon, I’ll show you what we’ve done.”

* * *

 

When Tina came back, she was alone, and Fiona was stretched out on the couch. Her arm was thrown over her eyes, but as the Auror perched herself on a settee, she spoke. “Danny and Greene are busy adding extras, aren’t they?”

“Patented Brit magic.” Tina assured her. With a sigh, Fiona pushed herself semi-upright. Her hair was a right mess, and her eyes were _tired_.

“Well?” She asked heavily.

_Have you **any** news?_

Tina bit her lip. “I’m really not supposed to say…” She replied. “There isn’t even a lot to tell. We’re still looking.”

Fiona looked even more unhappy. “Nothing from the leads on Grindelwald I sent over? About his suspected activity in America?”

“All dead ends.” Tina admitted. “To be honest, Fiona… I’m one of the only people who even believes he’s still alive.”

That statement didn’t get the fiery reaction she was expecting (hoping for?); Fiona simply shook her head. “That’s foolish. Grindelwald used a Polyjuice Potion, and he’s only been in captivity about three weeks. Percival would need to be in _comparatively_ good health for the Potion to work, and he can’t have died in two weeks. No, he must be alive.”

“You don’t think one of Grindelwald’s supporters stole away to do him in?”

“Unlikely, unless they did it within an hour after their master was caught. The magical community was put under lockdown as soon as repairs finished, and that took less than an hour, didn’t it?” Fiona was chewing a pencil that had been placed in a holder on the coffee table. “I doubt one of his lemmings had the _time_ to find and murder Percival. But you’re saying you can’t track his magic signature?”

“No, we’ve come up empty there.” Tina’s shrug belied her frustration. “Wherever he is, Grindelwald must have suppressed his magic.”

“Yet retained enough in his system to make the Polyjuice effective. So we can rule out forms of Dark Magic that snuff out magic utterly- which is a relief, I can tell you.” Fiona muttered. Tina started when she leapt to her feet and began pacing. “Untraceable, possibly unconscious… are there any Unplottable areas you _may_ have overlooked near the Graves residence?”

“No, we checked the surrounding areas thoroughly.”

“A batch of Polyjuice only lasts about two weeks… he’d have kept Percival within arms’ reach.”

“Not necessarily, he could apparate anywhere within the country and back in under a minute.” Tina objected. “What’s to stop him keeping Mr Graves in New Orleans and apparating back and forth for the potion every two weeks?”

“Ego.” Fiona replied succinctly. “Grindelwald took on the face of the most powerful man in magical America and _waltzed_ into MACUSA, and _no one noticed_.” Tina flushed. “You think he didn’t delight in hiding Percival under all your noses too? A man like that? No, Percival’s in New York. I’m sure of it.”

* * *

 

Tina at her side, flanked by her Aurors, Fiona strode through the familiar MACUSA doors. Her heels _clacked_ against the floor, and she knew just how much attention she was attracting.

Red, the goblin, nodded tersely at her. “Back, Ambassador?”

She offered him a cold smile. “As you see, Red. Take me to President Picquery, please. Wherever she might be.”

“Drop me off at the Investigative department.” Tina added.

“Who’re the bowler hats?” Red indicated the silent Aurors who had stepped in after them.

“They’re with me.” Fiona replied sharply.

He fixed her with a narrow stare, but pressed the appropriate buttons. “More Brits.” He muttered.

Danny flashed Fiona an amused grin. She responded with a wry one.

The elevator clattered to a halt, and Tina stepped out. “The President’s under a fair bit of stress.” She cautioned Fiona; her heart tightened, remembering Graves- the fake Graves- saying that to her mere weeks ago. Imposter or not, the kindness in his expression had bolstered Tina then. Was that twisted of her?

She shook it off as the elevator doors closed on Fiona’s own twisted smile. Mercy Lewis, she didn’t intend to go easy on Picquery, did she?

Going easy on Picquery had never occurred to Fiona; but then, neither had going hard.

“Ambassador MacBride.” The older woman had damned _bags_ under her eyes. “I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe DeSoto when he said you were coming in. You only arrived two hours ago.”

“Did I ever give you the impression that I was a slacker, President Picquery?” Fiona countered, an easy smile on her lips. “I rested on the ship, and Auror Goldstein was kind enough to show my Aurors the ropes- Aurors Tully and Greene, that is.” She indicated the men behind her.

“Welcome to America, gentlemen.” Picquery nodded at them. Her gaze moved to Fiona, and the slightest warmth entered her eyes. “It’s good to have you back, Ambassador. I hope your debriefing satisfied the Ministry.”

“They sent me back, didn’t they?” Fiona chuckled. “And I’m glad they did, Madam President.”

“Goldstein may have mentioned this, but all your leads as to Grindelwald’s connections in America—”

“Turned up nothing, yes, she said.” Fiona nodded. “We’ve been brainstorming, though, and we came up with a couple of other approaches. I assume she’s conveying them to Auror DeSoto as we speak.”

“You’re very eager to get Graves back.” Picquery observed. But Fiona’s Ambassador mask was well and truly on. “Aren’t we all.” She replied. “But I do have more information about how Grindelwald might have funded his little jaunt across the pond. Can we speak privately?”

Picquery’s gaze sharpened. “Of course.”

* * *

 “…So we can rule out British connections as far as Grindelwald’s American campaign is concerned, thank Merlin. Nothing in the accounts turned up anything suspicious, and our people were _very_ thorough.” Fiona tapped the sheet of parchment with her wand, and a map of Europe inked itself on. “So, according to our sources, Grindelwald hails from Eastern Europe- Durmstrang is still tight-lipped about his exact home country, but our Interrogators will get there- so there’s probably more than significant support in his native area. Possibly even within Durmstrang itself- they actually _teach_ the Dark Arts there.” Picquery’s lips thinned.

“Yes, exactly,” Fiona nodded at her expression. “So that’s one lead both MACUSA and the Ministry can jointly pursue. Another- though this is probably another dead end- is his aunt, Bathilda Bagshot. She’s England’s leading magical historian, and she lives in Godric’s Hollow. Professor Dumbledore knows her personally, which is an advantage; she’s not talking to the Ministry.”

Picquery raised an eyebrow. “Is that even legal?”

“Perfectly.” Fiona admitted. “There are plenty of loopholes in our laws that anyone can exploit if they know about them, and Bathilda definitely does. She’s _the_ authority on English magical institutions, including Hogwarts. Even Dumbledore doesn’t know as much as she does.”

“Albus Dumbledore is supposed to be the greatest wizard in the world.” Picquery was frowning thunderously now. “Why hasn’t he dealt with Grindelwald himself?”

Fiona shrugged, looking a little helpless. “It’s anybody’s guess. We’ve been trying to get him to do it- the Ministry, I mean- but he’s evasive. He keeps saying he can’t, and I don’t think it’s fear that’s stopping him. Whatever it is, it’s bigger than that.”

“People are _dying_ , Ambassador.” Picquery snapped.

“You don’t think we’ve tried telling him that?!” Fiona snapped back. “The Minister, Theseus, Mr Rookwood, myself- we’ve _all_ tried, and so have others! We’re the ones trying to stop people from dying, and don’t tell me otherwise!”

Silence simmered between them. At length, Picquery sighed. “Apologies,” She rubbed her eyes. “As you can imagine, we’ve had a lot going on, what with trying to find how Grindelwald managed to impersonate Graves so thoroughly that no one suspected, and the Aurors rooting out Scourers and others who might’ve thrown their lot in with him—”

“Why on earth would they do that?” Fiona frowned. “I thought Scourers were Muggles- No-Majs- dedicated to hunting down the wizarding community.”

“They do share a short-term goal with Grindelwald- the exposure of the American magical community.” Picquery pointed out. “I think he believes that once he achieves that, there _will_ be war, and he’ll turn on his Scourer allies- if he has any, that is. It’s anybody’s guess at the moment.”

“That does make sense, albeit in a twisted sort of way.” Fiona admitted, sagging against her chair. “Anyway, I suggest you send a couple of Aurors- preferably an Investigator and an Interrogator- to Durmstrang. Maybe increased international pressure will make them talk. I’ll send word to the Ministry delegation there via London; Auror Scamander can handle it.”

The President grimaced at the familiar name. “I hope he’s more… controlled than his brother.” Fiona laughed, although the comparison wasn’t very funny.

“Theseus is everything that’s ‘respectable’.” She made sarcastic air-quotes. “War hero, charming, concerned with protocol… and very protective of his younger brother.” She finished, raising her eyebrows at Picquery, who smiled wryly.

“I’ll keep that in mind… and relay it to my Aurors too.”

Fiona stood up, and vanished the parchment and maps with a wave of her wand. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Madam President. I assume my embassy workspace remains the same?”

“Yes, although the offer of an office space here remains on the table.” Picquery stood as well. “You’d be able to keep up with the investigation more easily… all of them.” She added blandly.

Fiona remained cool. “I’ll think about it and let you know soon.” She promised. It was a tempting offer, and any private work could be easily done from her study at home…

“Excellent. Then good evening, Ambassador. Aurors.” She nodded at them all, before sweeping out of the meeting room.

“Merlin’s beard,” Danny breathed when she was safely out of earshot. “She’s a force.”

Fiona chuckled. “You could say that.”

* * *

At the end of the day, as she sat down to dinner with Danny and Greene (at her insistence), she was in as good spirits as the circumstances would allow.

She’d written to Theseus earlier, telling him about the proposed MACUSA expedition, and directing him to brief Rookwood as well as liaise with the American Aurors en route to Durmstrang. She understood that he couldn’t himself accompany them, but his instructions on how to proceed would definitely be welcome.

Another quick missive off to Newt, telling him she was still trying to pull strings from her end within the Foreign Office, and to let her know when he planned to apply for a travel permit to America (again) so she could write to Rookwood or whoever immediately. She enquired after the progress of his book, and after a second’s hesitation, added a line about how she’d spent time with Tina, and she was doing well, and had asked after him.

She’d have to have been blind not to notice the attraction between Newt and Tina even amidst all the hullaballoo and heartbreak. It wasn’t crackling chemistry, but more of… oh, she didn’t really have words to describe it, but it wasn’t nothing. And it could grow into something. Fiona hoped it would.

Thinking about Newt and Tina put her in mind of another pair… of which she had been one half. She frowned as she chewed: _had been?_ Wasn’t she still? Percival _must_  be alive, both head and heart rejected the idea of his death… but what if his ordeal made him... different?

Of course it would; her secret, selfish little fear was that it would make him _in_ different.

Because that would be nigh unbearable. She’d seen him- the real him- angry, frustrated, intrigued, amused and attracted by her. Never once had she seen indifference in his eyes.

Her mind pulled her into the past, to the last time she’d seen him- the sweetest time.

* * *

_“You ever think,” Percival began, and Fiona had to strain to catch his words over the music and laughter. “About staying? Here, in New York?” His dark eyes-  sweet Merlin, those eyes- caught hers, and she hoped that the dim light and heat of the room adequately disguised her blooming blush. “If you liked New York enough, would you stay?”_

_“To be honest, I think I would.” She watched as his eyes began to light up, but she wasn’t finished. “Do you know how it is, when you come to a place for the first time and it just... lets you be? Accepts you as you are, like you’re not too much of A or too little of B or... New York is that place for me. I’d like to stay, if I could work it out with the Ministry.”_

_The smile that curved his lips was small, bright, and the most beautiful thing Fiona had ever seen. She wanted to look and look, but then looking didn’t cut it, so she kissed him._

_It wasn’t a grand, cinematic kiss: Fiona didn’t see stars when their lips met, and the earth didn’t tremble under her feet. Her knees didn’t go weak. She felt a strange, slotting sensation behind her ribs, though, like something sliding into place that she hadn’t even known was out of place; the feel of his callouses on the pampered, soft skin of her nape and jaw seemed to turn her blood to fire; liquid flames seemed to ripple outwards from every point he touched, flowing through her veins down and across her body, causing her to moan and pull him closer. He kissed her with authority, demanding and soft, thorough and tender, all at once. Graves was wonderfully solid and warm and oh, the smell of him was now nestled into her lungs, and what an arousing thought that was…_

_They broke apart, twin gasps and tiny, quick breaths filling the minute space between them. Graves’ hands moved to her waist, and she played with the sleeves of his robes._

_Fiona peeked up at his face, and the look in his dark eyes— **oh**. She had to clutch at his arms to stay upright, because **now** her knees decided to let her down… literally… under the weight of his gaze. _

_Alright._ This _could perhaps be called slightly cinematic._

_“If only you could see yourself…” He rumbled, and she willed her heart to stop racing._

_“Someone’s going to see **us**.” She murmured, making absolutely no effort to avert that outcome. _

_His grip on her tightened. “Maybe they should,” He replied. “I won’t have to go to the trouble of hunting down those asses trying to gallant you about the place.”_

_“Please don’t.” Fiona rolled her eyes. “I don’t think murder would look good coming from the Director of Magical Security, even if it’s you.”_

_He grinned, making him look five years younger. “You’ll visit me in prison, right?”_

_“That would not make it worth it, Percival, stop it.” She was giggling now- Merlin he made her stupid. “And you’d best let me go; I have to go home. Merlin, I haven’t packed a thing!”_

_That sobered him; he grimaced, letting her go and smoothing down his hair._

_“I know you have to go,” He muttered. Fiona sighed. “I wish I didn’t, though. I don’t see why they want me to report in person when a modified Howler would do just as well. Or a Floo call. It’s ridiculous.”_

_“As is almost everything in politics.” He admitted ruefully. “Sometimes I wonder if Aurors shouldn’t be a separate force just to avoid the politics— and then I remember that politics is almost the natural state of Americans.”_

_“And Brits too, I assure you.” She huffed. “But it’s only for a couple of weeks, and then they’re extending my posting here.” She laid a hand against his jaw, revelling in how he leaned into it._

_“Two weeks,” Graves murmured. “Can’t imagine what MACUSA sessions are going to be like without you inserting your polite Brit insults every two minutes.” She swatted him. “But will you write, Fiona?”_

_“It’s only two weeks.” She replied, startled. “Even so,” He pulled her close once again. “Will you?”_

_Fiona pressed a short, tender kiss to his cheek. “If that’s what you want, yes.” She replied. “I should warn you about my mother’s devil owl, though.”_

_“Consider me warned.” He murmured, and the look in his eyes was so warm, so tender that Fiona gave herself another ten minutes to leave._

* * *

Fiona jerked as fingers snapped before her nose. “Do that again, Danny, and you lose them.” She said pleasantly. He only snorted, bugger him. “Knut for your thoughts, Fee?”

She cast a roguish look up at him. “They don’t come cheap, sorry, darling.” She drawled. “But isn’t it about time you made a very important Floo call?”

“Merlin, you’re right.” He looked as anxious and eager as a teenager as he bounded towards her study and the fireplace it held. It should have been ridiculous in a man of thirty-one, but the dopey adoration that suffused his feature at the mere thought of his fiancée was all too endearing. Truth be told, Fiona hadn’t wanted him to accompany her on his trip, considering it meant five months away from England and Sarah- he wouldn’t be seeing her until the wedding, for Merlin’s sake. Not to mention, it could be dangerous.

Sarah had simply rolled her eyes and told her not to be a ninny.

 _He’s an Auror, and he wants to protect you_ , she’d said while tinkering with her oven. _You should’ve seen him when we got the news about that Dark wizard in New York, Fee. For heaven’s sake, take him away before he drives me up the wall with his fretting. Just keep him away from any Zeldas and Tallulahs, or all his fancy wand-waving won’t save him._

Fiona didn’t know what a Zelda or a Tallulah was, so it was a pretty safe bet that Danny didn’t either. Anyway, Sarah couldn’t have been too worried about them, or she’d have explained. As it was, she’d just laughed and offered her a pound cake to take home.

 _She’s far too good for you_ , Fiona had told Danny, only half-joking. And he’d agreed, completely serious.

But five months… She half-hoped he came to his senses by the New Year and requested a transfer back home. Theseus would understand; he had Leta Lestrange to consider, after all. Fiona knew all too well how one could think, _oh it’s **just** five months_, and in the blink of an eye, it could be- perhaps a lifetime.

Tears stung her eyes, surprising even herself. _It was just supposed to be two weeks_ , _and now no one in the country knows where he is, except a madman who’ll never tell us._

Swallowing a sob, Fiona extinguished the lights with a murmur of _Nox_ , and headed towards her bedroom.

Tomorrow was another day.

Hopefully it would be a better one.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the beginning.

_ New York City, 1925 _

_Ma chère Fiona,_

_It is a great relief to know that you have arrived in New York safely; thank you for being so prompt in your communiqué to me about it. I am very well, since you asked, but I do miss you more than usual. I suppose it is the knowledge that you are across an ocean this time, not somewhere this side of France! You might say I should be used to it by now- it has been this for nearly ten years- but I simply am not._

_Paris is lovely- of course, you will say it is always lovely, but there is something very special about it at this time of the year. Summer is passing, and the autumn is wafting in on the cool breeze. Everything looks crisp and mature and beautiful. I spend a great many hours out of doors, you will be glad to know. Your grand-père thinks that I look ten years younger. I will leave you to judge when you return- although taking a weekend off to come see your poor maman might be a better idea. Just a hint._

_I know how busy your work keeps you, but you must not tire yourself out, chèrie. You are a woman, not a horse. Enjoy yourself a little, perhaps find a man. It has been so long since you last brought a boy home. I long to see you happily married, dandling my grandchild on your knee. What a pretty tableau that will be!_

_Don’t forget to eat well, and not too much chocolate; you know how bad it is for the skin. Drink plenty of water, yes? Take care of yourself, that is all maman asks._

_All my love,_  
_Maman._  
  
_PS- Please feed Léonie, or she will be hungry when she returns and scratch me dreadfully. Don’t forget to supply her for her journey!_

* * *

 

“Ambassador MacBride.” Firm handshake, not too tight, not too limp. Fiona had to concentrate. “Welcome to MACUSA.”

“It’s an honour, Madam President.” She replied, smiling politely.

Standing a little behind Seraphine Piquery was a man with a  rather… forbidding expression, for lack of a better word. Fiona scrutinised him covertly: tall, a shockingly manly jaw, black hair combed into a widow’s peak, greying temples

“Director Graves.” Never let it be said Fee MacBride didn’t do her homework. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Welcome to New York, Ambassador.” His grip was _just_ on the wrong side of too tight, but she smiled nevertheless. “Pleasure’s mine.” His eyes were unyielding; this wasn’t a man one could take lightly in the field.

What about in her field, though?

“If you don’t mind my saying, you’re younger than I expected, Ambassador.” Well. Not that wasn’t personal or anything.

Fiona smiled wryly. “Am I really?”  

A minute smile flashed across the other woman’s face in response. Fiona wasn’t sure what it meant, but hoped she’d made a bit of an impression. Now if only it could be a positive one, she thought, mentally shuddering at the memory of an early posting to Transylvania. First impressions on either side had been lukewarm at best, since introductions had featured a vampire, a cranky old griffin and a particularly uncatchable niffler- the latter two uninvited.

British vampires, it seemed, weren’t the norm for worldwide vampire behaviour. Rather the opposite.

They entered a small boardroom, rather sparsely furnished with a long table and three chairs. It looked rather lonely, and she pitied the people who had the misfortune to work here.

“Ravenclaw, I take it?” The President’s eyes had fallen to the eagle brooch on her coat.

“Yes.” She replied, taking a seat. “Has either of you ever been to Hogwarts?”

“Once, a few years ago.” Graves replied. “I was invited to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“Were you?” Fiona raised an eyebrow. “That’s… impressive, I have to say; the average age for candidates is usually above fifty. Did you meet Professor Dumbledore?”

“Unfortunately not.” He was back to looking dour; butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

_Not one for small talk, are you, Mr Graves?_

* * *

_Chère maman,_

_Before you read further, please note that L_ _éonie has been provided with all the food necessary for a trans-Atlantic journey, and that despite your hints to the contrary, I do in fact quite like your devil bird._

_I’m delighted to know that you spend a lot of time outside the house. You’re quite right about Paris- it’s really at its best this time of year. I wish I could be there to see it._

_I’ve been in New York a few days now. It’s unlike any place I’ve ever seen. Delhi and Beijing are so intrinsically magical- magic is in the very bones of those places- but New York's nothing like Europe either. It’s a little like London, I suppose, but only in a very superficial way. This place has a presence all its own._

_Perhaps it’s because unless one knows- or is guided- exactly where to go and where to look, there’s very little trace of magic around. The wizarding world and all knowledge of it is buried deep. Of course, considering the American Muggle public’s history (hardly history yet, by the way) with magic, it’s hardly surprising. But it does lead one to wonder how MACUSA keeps track of magical abilities if they manifest in seemingly all-Muggle families. Or why they aren’t all insane from all the inbreeding that Rappaport’s Law must enforce. But that’s an outsider’s view. They must have **some** system in place to prevent all of them from being born stark raving mad._

_I have a nice little house- not as big as in the other countries, but quite comfortable and **extremely** well-warded. It has its own little study, and Floo-connected fireplace. I also have another office at the British Embassy, not far from MACUSA Headquarters. Also fixed up with Floo-connectivity, of course. I spend a lot of time making and drinking tea. I have to do it myself because the cafeteria staff at MACUSA have apparently never heard of a decent cup of tea, and I’m the only one that’s concerned about it. _

_Naturally, I can’t give you details, but I’ve settled into work pretty well. Americans are a strange lot, but friendly enough if you can look past their peculiarities._

_Tell Grand-père I’ll probably be home in summer, and I’m going to make him give me a tour of Paris in his way. So he should start getting fit for it now; it takes old bones a little time to get used to movement. Do tell him exactly that, and give him a kiss from me._

_Should my posting in New York City be extended, I’ll try to bring Luc over here to live with me. Kiss him from mama._

_Reserve the rest of my kisses for yourself, maman. I miss you too. I’ll see you as soon as I can._

_All my love,  
Fee._

_P.S: When you next write, instruct Léonie to roost somewhere during the day once she crosses into USA. It’s one of the security measures so that the Muggles don’t get suspicious. We got lucky this time._

_._

_._

Sending Léonie off was an exercise in bribery; how far that devil owl would get before morning with the load of owl treats she’d packed into the beak’s-reach pouch was anybody’s guess. Hopefully she’d clear American airspace before daybreak.

She _was_ young for a diplomat, Fiona knew that. And she’d worked for it- her family name may have opened a few doors, but it hadn’t made the work any easier. She’d earned the posting to America- served impeccably in Transylvania (minus those unfortunate introductions), Romania, Peru, China, _India_ … It had been a pretty interesting decade for her, and by Circe, she’d worked through every second of it.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t eager to see the New York from the Muggle pictures. The whirlwind parties, the dancing all night, the speakeasies… not to mention the men and women who seemed to care for nothing but the ultimate accomplishment of a fleeting good time. Fiona didn’t think she’d be bringing an American home to maman, but a good time with a beau or two… that was an attractive idea.

Sighing, she pushed herself off the couch. Men and dining and dancing could wait; even New York could wait. She had Grindelwald to deal with. They all did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love!  
> ~Till the next.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews keep me warm at night and fuel my muse. They're love, so feel free to leave me some! Constructive criticism is welcomed, and flames will be used to burn your house down.  
> Till the next!


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